


In Between Forget and Cherish

by PhantomSwelling



Series: Destruction Used To Be Fun [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Nothing interesting really happens, frank gets over problems, i self edited so there are mistakes, the first time i tagged this i actually forgot a character and i still feel bad, there's going to be a third part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomSwelling/pseuds/PhantomSwelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He picks up his phone from where it was resting beside him and starts dialing the number as he’s done many times before. He has so many things to say to Gerard, the man who helped him exactly two months a week ago, but the minute he goes to actually call his mind freezes up and he realizes that he really doesn’t have anything to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Between Forget and Cherish

**Author's Note:**

> This is really, really self edited and there are probably a few more mistakes than I realized, so feel free to point them out. Thank you for reading.

Frank’s sitting on his couch a little over two months later, twirling and twisting an old and creased receipt between his fingers. The words of inspiration still standing out in contrast to the faded print on the other side as he reads over it again and then again. By now, he has the words memorized by heart and the number saved not only in his phone but forever in his mind. He folds it up and goes to set it down before he sighs and unfolds it one more time, the ancient-looking paper brushing softly between his fingers. 

He picks up his phone from where it was resting beside him and starts dialing the number as he’s done many times before. He has so many things to say to Gerard, the man who helped him exactly two months a week ago, but the minute he goes to actually call his mind freezes up and he realizes that he really doesn’t have anything to say. 

Today is no different and he ends up setting the phone down beside him, the number still staring back at him, waiting for him to press the call button and tell the beautiful stranger just how much he’s done for Frank. 

Frank’s finger hovers over the call button before he checks the time and decides it’s too late to call even though it’s only midday. He knows it’s just another excuse to make himself feel better, but it’s enough to keep him from feeling bad for not calling for at least one more day. 

He’s about to clear the screen and wallow in self pity in the form of watching mind numbing TV shows when he out of habit accidentally presses the call button. His heart freezes, his eyes widen, and his hand stills over the screen. He feels his palms start to sweat and then he hears the phone pick up and start ringing. By now, it’s too late to hang up because it’s already connected with the other person, so he slowly brings the phone up to his ear, biting his lip so hard that it threatens to swell up and bleed. 

He’s pressing the phone too tightly to his ear and it hurts, but his whole arm is tight and rigid. The phone only seems to ring for a short amount of time before it stops, the calls connecting, and Frank’s heart freezes in his chest at the voice coming through the speaker, “Hello?” 

Frank opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. He opens and closes his mouth several times as if he were pretending to be a fish before he squeaks out an apology and hangs up, throwing the phone down on the couch beside him as if it had contracted the plague.

He rubs his hands on his pants, feeling the black fabric stick to his hands. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths before he jumps when his phone starts ringing loudly beside him. He glances down and freaks out when it’s Gerard calling him back. He hurriedly presses the ignore button and then shuts his phone off, shoving it between the couch cushions, vowing to not touch it or turn it on again for a while. 

Suddenly, the silence seems deafening. To calm himself down and take his mind off it, he turns the TV on for background noise and flips through the channels. He stops at a show he usually watches around this time and gets frustrated when he can’t focus. His mind keeps wandering to other places and by the time he’s halfway through the show, he can barely sit still. The actor’s voices are annoying him and the drama they try to induce just grates on his nerves in a way it never has before. 

Then, the house feels like it’s suffocating him. He feels disappointed all of a sudden, like he’d let his hopes get too high and now they were crashing down on top of him, crushing his lungs and weighing down his heart. He knows he needs to get out of the house before he goes insane or does something he knows is wrong. He gets up quickly from the couch, grabbing his keys and wallet off the coffee table, and leaves. 

The outside air is calming and refreshing. It’s easier to breathe, but it’s still not enough. It’s like Frank’s skin is too tight, pressing down on him and causing him to feel uncomfortable in his in his own body. He starts craving a bottle of alcohol to calm his nerves and starts digging around in his pockets to which pockets holds his wallet and ID before he stops himself and takes a deep breath that stings his nose.

He continues walking down the street before the chilly November air starts numbing and biting at his skin. He’d been in such a hurry just to get outside, to get away, that he’d completely forgotten what it was like outside in the late fall and early winter weather.

He barely gets down the street before he’s too cold to continue and starts backtracking, but he doesn’t want to go home. When he reaches his apartment, he walks straight past it and circles around to the car garages in the back. He doesn’t know where he’s going or how long it’s going to take to get there, but he knows he needs to start thinking clearly again.

Inside the car is warm. He cranks the heat all the way up and pats his pockets for his phone before he remembers he left it stuffed between the cushions. He sighs and has to take several deep breaths before he checks his gas and mirrors and pulls out. It isn’t until he’s two streets away from a familiar place that he realizes that’s where he’d been heading all along and with a destination in mind he realizes that he couldn’t have picked a better place to go.

He smiles to himself as he comes to a stop outside a small two bedroom house. The front door is a chipped and faded white surrounded by weathered bricks and age spots. The front windows are open and Frank can see his old black curtains hanging on the left side, just where he’d last seen them, blowing in the wind. The screen is long gone from when he’d kicked it out as a teenager and he’s pretty sure if the tree in the front yard hadn’t of fallen down a few years back, then his initials would still be carved in the trunk on the side facing towards the house and away from the street. 

Then, Frank remembers the screaming and yelling and fighting that had happened the last time he was here. He frowns to himself and starts regretting his decision to come here until he sees the front curtain twitch and sway as if someone had been watching him through it. He squints at it until he hears the faded white door open and a familiar voice calling to him in a soft, loving tone that he knows so well, “Frankie, baby, is that you?”

Frank grins to her, walking forward to greet the woman at the door, “Yes, mom, it’s me.” 

He barely has time to blink let alone take another breath before his mom is running down the path towards him. He’s only able to brace himself before his mother is pressed against him, her arms wrapped around him and she’s hugging him for all he’s worth. They stay like for a while and Frank realizes that he’s missed his mom more than he’d thought he did. He’s missed her hugs and the way she’s always excited to see him. They hadn’t talked in so long because she refused to see her son fail and Frank refused to let her know he was failing. It takes him a while to realize that she’s crying and he fights the prickling feeling that’s building behind his eyelids, threatening to make him cry, too. He hates to see his mom cry and he gets a whole face-full of it when she leans back to take a good look at him. 

It isn’t until she sniffles and wipes the tears away from her eyes that Frank notices the wrinkles that have accumulated under her eyes in bags surrounded by crows feet. There are deep smile lines, deeper than he remembers and her mousey brown hair is streaked with light gray highlights that makes her look older, but still young at the same time. Her frame is smaller than he remembers and she’s at least a foot smaller than him. He’s not used to being taller than anyone, so it’s different that his mom has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and hold his face between her frail, aged hands. She’s smiling, even now that she’s crying, and she looks beautiful, happier than he’d last seen her. Aging has treated her well and Frank only regrets not spending more time with her.

“Frankie, I’m so glad you’re here. Come inside, it’s cold out here and you aren’t wearing a jacket. You’re going to catch a cold and it’ll be even longer until I can see you again.” She smiles at him so he doesn’t feel bad for the last comment she made and holds his hand, leading him into the house.

The inside hasn’t changed one bit. The ornaments that sat on the coffee table are still resting in the same places they were five, ten, fifteen years ago. He smiles as the familiarity rushes through him, opening his lungs and letting him breathe properly. His skin settles right on his body and he’s no longer self conscious. 

He sits down on the couch while his mom starts cleaning up a nonexistent mess and talking away, “Sorry about the mess, Sweetie. I’ve been at work more than I’ve been here lately. I don’t think anything’s really changed though.” 

Frank laughs loudly, shattering the tension that had settled between them in the distance from his car to the door, “Ma, it’s okay. Everything’s perfect, I promise. I’ve missed being here and I didn’t even know it until today. I missed you, too, Mom, a lot. It’s been so long.”

“And whose fault is that?” She jokes, pinching his cheek and smiling widely. She sits down on the couch beside him, just watching her son and noticing the changes in his face now that she hasn’t seen him in over a year. Frank sits still watching her as she watches him, her face only reflecting happiness back as if he’s just made her entire day, her entire week, even. Frank leans back on the couch, his back angled so he can see the ceiling fan rotating above him. His shoulders relax for what feels like the first time in a long time. 

He doesn’t even care that his mom had started running her fingers through his hair, combing it and reminding him that its been so long since his last haircut. He admires that she manages to refrain from commenting on it, but he can understand why; his mother doesn’t want to get into it with him again, she just wants to appreciate that she has her son back for the moment.

Frank peeks out from the corner of his eye and sees his mother thinking silently as she lazily messes with this hair. Frank misses having this all the time. He’d always been so close to her growing up. They had always respected each other and just understood one another. They’d always been a team until he got addicted to alcohol and started pissing away everything they had achieved.

She leans back on the couch next to Frank, pulling the pillow out from underneath her back and throwing it on the floor, “How have you been lately, Frankie?” 

“I’ve,” he pauses and considers his answer, “well, I like to think I’ve been pretty good.” It isn’t until after he says it that he realizes it’s true. He realizes that he’s in a better place than he was before and it makes him feel happy, something he wasn’t sure he could feel anymore.

His mother nods thoughtfully and speaks softly, almost like she’s afraid to bring it up, like Frank will disappear all over again, “I’ve been worrying about you. The last time we talked, you weren’t you.” She pauses, her face an unreadable mask, “You’ve definitely put on weight since then but in a good way. Your face looks fuller and your eyes aren’t so cold, almost lifeless, anymore. Even now that you aren’t smiling, you look better and happier than before.”

“I’ve missed this,” is the only thing Frank can think of to say to his mother because he knows he isn’t happy, not all the way, but he’s slowly getting there.

He notices his mother has tears in her eyes and she quickly tries to wipe them away before Frank can see but he does anyways. He gets up from the couch and just hugs her. He doesn’t know what else to do, but he knows these tears aren’t the bad and hopeless tears he had once been familiar with receiving from her, but they’re good and hopeful and it’s proven when she wraps her arms around him, too.

A little while later, they’re both laughing at some comedy show on the TV when Frank notices that his mom stopped laughing quite a bit ago and it was just his laugh breaking through the white noise of the TV. He peeks at her from the corner of his eye but it’s too hard to see that way, so he turns his head around completely. Frank’s not surprised to find his mother watching him, happy and hopeful but also sad and cautious, like she’s afraid to be happy and hopeful.

Frank rolls his eyes playfully at her, and knows they’re more than okay now, “What?”

“What’s on your mind, baby? I can tell there’s something wrong.”

It isn’t until she asks that Frank remembers the whole reason he’d left his house, the whole reason he’d felt suffocated and even made the first move to better himself. It isn’t until she asks that he realizes that he wants her to know, he wants her to help him do something, anything.

“His name is Gerard,” Frank starts and then gauges his mom’s reaction. She had accepted it with open arms when Frank finally came out and told her that he was gay. He’d never really been interested in girls and if he had, they had been the kind of girls who would rather wear jeans all year round than pink dresses and bracelets. He had liked girls who would rather get in the dirt and collect worms and other crawly things with him than play tea party and dress up. He was never interested in being some girls prince, but her equal. To him, they were the same.

His mother leans forward in her seat, bouncing playfully as if she were a young and excited child. She’s beaming from ear to ear as she asks question after question, but only one sticks into Frank’s mind as the most essential question to answer, “How’d you two meet?” 

Frank takes a deep breath and that’s when his mom notices that he isn’t sharing her joy, he isn’t smiling and getting excited right along with her. She stops bouncing and grabs her son’s hands in her own and gently squeezes, “Frank?”

“We met at a bar.” Frank says lightly, afraid of his mother’s disapproval before the words even leave his mouth. He doesn’t want her to hate Gerard before she has a chance to know him, to see him like Frank does, but he knows he has to be completely honest in order to get the weight off his chest.

Frank looks at his mother and is glad to see her still watching him intently, her face carefully blank apart from a small change in the tightness of her mouth. He can tell she’s still listening by the way her eyes stay on his face and he continues, “He saved me. I was an alcoholic and he made me want to change. He made me want to be better than I ever thought possible. He didn’t know me or what I was capable of, but he took me in anyways when I passed out on his shoulder after puking in the back alley of a club I spent every night at.”

It isn’t until Frank admits out loud that he was an alcoholic that it hits him, and it hits him hard. He’s said it in his head too many times for it to count because he’d had no reason until now to say it. If he had said it out loud to himself prior to this moment, it still probably would not have felt the same because now he was admitting it to someone else and telling someone what he once thought he knew but hadn’t convinced himself of. It meant so much more now that he could talk about it and know that it was a thing of the past and he could still move forward now even while talking the problem.

“He pretty much carried me to his house and let me sleep on his bed. He washed my puke covered clothing and then slept on the couch. The next morning, I had no idea where I was and tried to duck out, but he saw me anyways. He was so nice to me and you could tell he wasn’t judging me or looking down at me. All he wanted to do was help and it was such an odd thing to actually see in person. No one could possibly be that nice, right? Well, he was.” 

Frank looks at his mother and notices she’s looking down at her hands. He puts his hand on her knee and when she looks up, she’s definitely upset. There are fresh tears in her eyes. Frank moves over to her and she hugs him so tightly it’s a little difficult for him to breathe, but he doesn’t mind it. Instead, he continues his story. 

“I could tell right away that he was trying to figure me out, trying to make himself me so he could understand. Then, he asked me a question that made me just stop. It made me question myself and my motives. He asked me and I quote: What could possibly be so bad about your life that you’d rather forget than cherish every moment you have?” 

Frank smiles as he remembers that exact moment. It’s then that his mother speaks for the first time since he’d started, “And what did you say?” 

Frank smiles even wider at the memory as he looks at his mom, “I told him I didn’t know.”

They sit there for a moment as his mother dries her eyes and collects herself. It’s not awkward but it’s also not that warm and comfortable silence they’d had before. Frank wants to feel guilty, but at the same time he can’t. He feels lighter and more at ease than he’s been since he’d stopped drinking. He feels elated and happy and every other synonym the dictionary can come up with for the words.

His mother leans back and sighs, looking confused and sad, “If you think so highly of him, then why is he what’s bothering you?”

Then, it’s Frank’s turn to sigh, “I haven’t seen him since I’ve become sober. He gave me his phone number on an old receipt that I found in my wallet and a day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t looked at it, drawn inspiration to keep moving forward from it, but at the same time, no day has passed that I’ve called him and told him of my progress.”

“Frankie, I’m not sure what to say about all this because it’s a lot to take in, but don’t you think you’re placing this man on too high of a pedestal? I’m scared that if you do call him and meet up with him, you’ll only be disappointed when he isn’t the man you’ve imagined him to be in your head.” She rubs her forehead and watches Frank’s reaction through the corner of her eye.

Frank shakes his head quickly, “No, you didn’t see him, Mom. There’s something about him that’s different from anyone else. I haven’t just seen him in my head, I saw him in person and saw what I wanted to be in him. He saved me and I owe him at least a phone call.”

“Baby, you don’t owe him anything. From the sounds of it, he wanted to help you. I’m just scared you’re mistaking gratefulness and confusing it with love or attachment or something more.”

Frank shakes his head, “I’m grateful, very grateful, but there’s something more, Mom. I can feel it every time I think about him. I don’t want to say I love him, but there’s something there that beats everything normal I’ve ever felt about anyone.” 

Frank misses the way his mom is beaming at him the whole time he’s talking, waving his arms for emphasis and talking fast. When Frank stops talking, he has to take in a breath and his mother just laughs, bringing her hand down on his knee to slap it playfully. Frank rolls his eyes at her but beams back because he realizes that she just baited him into finally admitting how he feels. Now, he’s no longer unsure about Gerard and what he should do. It’s now obvious that he should’ve called Gerard the day after he decided it was possible to get sober and he was going to do it.

“Well, now you have absolutely no reason not to call him.” Frank’s mom laughs again, echoing his thoughts, “Oh, and I expect to meet the guy who saved my son’s life and stole his heart all in one go.” 

***

Later on that night, Frank stands across the street from his once favorite place and reads the club’s sign over and over again. The neon lights for the sign aren’t on yet since it’s still early, but he can see the bouncer, Bob, as Gerard told him many months ago, already at the door. Bob looks far more intimidating now that Frank has successfully avoided seeing him since the last night he’d ever come here and it almost screws up his already screwed up nerves but Frank knows he has to do this. It’s the ultimate test and the only way he can prove he can resist temptation and find out if Gerard still remembers him. 

Frank blows out a big gust of air, puffing out his cheeks, and watches it rise like smoke into the air. He tries to clamp down the sick feeling and walks quickly across the street before he can turn around and head home. When he reaches the other side, Frank thinks he can hear and feel his heartbeat in his ears and scolds himself internally for being such a chickenshit. He shakes himself on the inside and then clears his throat, asking timidly, “Bob?”

Bob immediately turns around, his blonde eyebrow raised in question. He looks Frank up and down before some kind of recognition flares in his eyes and he crosses his arms over his chest, “You little shit. Frank, right?” 

Frank nods but doesn’t say anything and shoves his hands deep into his pockets, staring at his feet rather than meeting Bob’s wrath. If Bob hadn’t already been a bouncer, he would’ve recommended him to become a prison guard, he was just that scary. Bob sounds a little softer when he speaks again but the guarded and tough tone is still present and intimidating Frank, “You know, I had a whole speech ready and waiting for you for when you came back, but then you didn’t come back and I can’t find it in me to say it with the same emotion I had months ago. To make things more confusing, I’m also glad you didn’t come back because this place, in all its glory, ruins dreams and good people like you.” 

Frank looks up and sees Bob watching him carefully, his blue eyes contemplating Frank. Frank would be a little more flattered by Bob’s statement if he hadn’t of disagreed with him about being a good person because in Frank’s mind no good person could think and be like him without being bad. Frank shrugs even though they both know it’s actually a big deal that Frank didn’t come back the next day either, “Yeah, it sort of happens when you make a complete fool of yourself and the guy who saves you is the friend of everyone who works here. Plus, it was about time I realized what I was doing.”

Bob smiles genuinely and Frank gets the feeling that Bob’s smiles are rare. Frank looks back down at his feet and kicks the brick wall of the building a couple times, “So, uh, how has Gerard been?”

Bob grunts and Frank looks up to see a knowing look in Bob’s eyes, “Gerard’s been alright, a little beat down these past couple months even though he won’t admit it or tell anyone why. If you came here to see or talk to him, then you just missed him. He left about thirty minutes ago. I can call him up if you want?”

Frank feels majorly relieved but also a little disappointed. It’s like he hadn’t wanted to see Gerard just yet because he still wouldn’t know what to say, but he’d also hoped to catch a glimpse of the person who’d done so much for him when he’d thought he’d done what any decent person would do. Frank sighs, “No, uh, it’s okay. I, uh, guess I just came here to see if I could again without drinking.”

Bob nods and there’s this look in his eye that Frank can’t decipher. It’s almost like a mixture of pity and hope and understanding, but it’s gone before Frank can decide whether or not to be offended or hopeful, too. Frank shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and brings his shoulders up to his ears. He can feel the cold biting his skin through the fabric. He’s about to wave and awkwardly slink off before Bob breaks the silence, “Hey, uh, do you maybe want to go inside? I mean, we’re closed right now but the guys inside wouldn’t mind it since you’re not drinking and you know Gerard.”

Frank’s about to decline, but Bob’s already holding the door open and Frank finds himself walking in just as he’d done multiple times in the past. The inside of the club is a lot warmer than the outside and Frank shivers from the fast change in temperature. The hallway into the club is dark and it takes a second for Frank’s eyes to adjust. He can see Bob standing a little ways ahead of him, so he speeds it up and lets himself be led into the main room. Nothing has changed since the last time he’s been here except the large room is empty and the strobe lights aren’t on. The whole room is lit by the bright ceiling lights and Bob casually leads Frank towards the bar, sitting down on one of the stools and patting the seat next to him. 

Frank walks quickly across the room, nervous, and looks at himself from the giant mirror hanging behind the bar. Without the dark setting and strobe lights, pounding music, and sea of bodies, it’s almost like Frank hadn’t been inside before today. He’s about to relay this over to Bob as he’s sitting down when a door to his right swings open and two people more emerge into the room, dressed in all black with towels thrown hastily over their shoulders and solid black aprons tied around their waists.

Frank immediately recognizes the bartender with the large medium brown afro and the nicely tanned skin. It’s his favorite bartender and otherwise known as Ray. The second bartender is tall and lanky with blonde hair and nice eyes. There’s something familiar about him, but Frank can’t place it at the moment. They both notice Bob and Frank right away. Ray pulls the rag off his shoulder and smiles at the two men sitting at his bar, “Early bird, you’re back!”

Frank laughs because he finally gets the joke and he’s excited to see Ray again. He’d forgotten how much he liked Ray even if he hadn’t known him, “Yeah, it’s me.”

Ray holds out his hand and Frank takes it so they can shake while Bob makes introductions, “Ray, this is Frank. Frank, this is Ray.” They nod to each other and then the lanky blonde one holds out his hand, too, and Frank shakes his hand and wonders why he’s giving a Frank a guilty look when Bob says, “Frank, this is Mikey, Gerard’s brother. Mikey, this is Frank, the guy Gerard hasn’t, well, I think you know.”

Mikey nods and it suddenly hits Frank why Mikey looked so familiar. Mikey was Gerard’s brother and Gerard’s brother had been the replacement bartender the last night Frank had been to the club, the last night he’d been drunk off his ass, and carried from the back alley but none other than Gerard. Mikey hadn’t even been a bartender, Gerard had told Frank that much, but it all didn’t make sense that Mikey was back and looked like he was working here now. Also, if Frank remembers correctly, Mikey had been the person Gerard had been on the phone with the morning Frank had woken up on Gerard’s bed. 

Then, what Bob said finally caught up with Frank and he wondered what Gerard hadn’t done and how much they all had actually heard about him. He wondered if Gerard talked about him or if there was something else he had missed, “What?”

Bob shakes his head and the same time Mikey glares at Bob and Ray whistles slowly, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. Frank looked at them all suspiciously while Ray starts shining the glass with the rag from his shoulder and looks at Frank, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve still got your usual memorized.”

Bob coughs awkwardly at the same time Frank’s throat goes dry. Thankfully, Bob saves him from having to explain himself, “Actually, Frankie boy here has stopped drinking.”

Ray’s eyes go wide and he’s beaming at Frank, “Shit, that’s amazing!” He sets the glass down on the counter beside him and laughs, leaning over the counter and pulling Frank into a giant hug that warms Frank to the core. 

When Ray pulls away, Frank can see Bob making fake gagging motions while Mikey glares guiltily at the glass he’s shining. Ray’s smile must be infectious because Frank sees Bob smiling again and even Mikey’s struggling not to join in. Ray claps his hands together, “Well, is there anything nonalcoholic I can get you instead?” 

“Water would be nice.” 

Bob raises his finger and Ray makes a face, “Don’t even say it, Bob. You already know you can’t drink on the job.”

Bob rolls his eyes, “Whatever. I’m out. I’ve got a door to guard and ID’s to check.”

Frank widens his eyes, “You guys check ID’s now? Shit, that probably ruined Friday and Saturday nights for minors.”

Mikey laughs and Frank finds himself smiling at the way it sounds, almost honking and awkward but still nice. Ray makes an indignant face and huffs out a breath all the while smiling at Mikey, “We should’ve been checking ID’s all along and I figured since we were doing so well we could strive without illegal money.”

Mikey smiles widely, his teeth peeking out, and jerks his thumb in Ray’s direction, “Don’t listen to him, Frank. He’s a liar. Last week a cop decided to have a drink and flashed his ID at the bar, badge and all. Ray flipped out and thought the cop was making a pass at how Ray didn’t check and boom! A new policy was born that very night. So many kids were angry and now they all loiter around back hoping some creepy fifty-year-old will bring them beer and fake ID’s.”

Ray smacks Mikey on the back of the head, “Shut up. Don’t you say anything else until I return with Frank’s water. You’re not allowed.” 

Mikey and Frank laugh as Ray disappears behind the door he and Mikey came in through earlier. Suddenly, they hear a crash in the back, glass breaking, and Ray cursing loudly. Mikey heads to the door quickly but then Ray comes out looking frazzled and there’s a piece of glass stuck in his hair. Mikey hurriedly pulls it out while Ray slides the water bottle down the bar, as Mikey asks, “What happened in there?”

Ray sighs, wiping his hands on his apron, “I dropped a whole tray full of glasses in there.”

Mikey whistles and asks softly, “Do you need me to go in and help?” 

“No, you're going to stay here and entertain our guest.” Ray says, giving Mikey a pointed look as Frank was starting to get up from the stool. Ray then looks at him and Frank halts from moving, sitting back down, “I’ll be back, Frank. Sorry about this.”

Frank shakes his head, feeling as if he and Mikey had just been set up, “It’s fine.”

Ray waves and then disappears behind the back door again, leaving Mikey and Frank at the bar. Now that no one is there to keep the conversation going between the two, the room becomes awkwardly silent and Frank grabs his water bottle just to have something to do. Mikey takes the rag off his shoulder and starts shining already spotless glass that was resting on the bar. Frank can hear it squeaking and Mikey’s face is carefully blank, giving away nothing. 

Eventually, Frank gets tired of the silence and takes a long gulp of his water, “So, uh, you’re Gerard’s brother?”

Mikey turns his carefully blank stare on Frank and Frank fights the urge to squirm in his seat. Mikey carefully looks Frank up and down, studying him closely, while Frank fights to remain composed and not let Mikey deter him from trying to figure things out. Frank is starting to feel naked under Mikey’s gaze and wanting to break eye contact when Mikey’s face lightens up and he thinks he can see a hint of a smile on his face, “And you’re Gerard’s Frank?”

Frank tries to ignore the way being called Gerard’s Frank makes his heart stutter in his chest and a hopeful feeling chases after it. He has to compose his face but he can tell he failed at doing so by the playful look in Mikey’s eyes. Frank takes another sip, fighting the heat that’s threatening to reach his face and cheeks, “I don’t know. It depends, I guess.”

“On what?” Mikey asks as he finally sets the glass down and puts the rag back on his shoulder. Mikey waits patiently for Frank to answer, but when it comes clear he isn’t, Mikey sighs and then jumps onto the counter, swinging his legs over to Frank’s side and landing on the stool next to Frank, facing away from the bar and towards the dance floor. They’re silent for a long time, but Frank doesn’t find this silence awkward. Finally, Mikey breaks the quietness with a sigh and watches the empty room as he speaks, avoiding Frank’s eyes, “You know, I blame myself for what happened that night, right?”

Frank looks down at his hands and speaks softly, “But you know you shouldn’t, right?”

Mikey glances at Frank from the corner of his eye and doesn’t say anything, but the guilty silence says everything. Frank turns on the stool and looks at Mikey, “You can’t blame yourself for what happened that night because I should’ve been responsible for myself. I took advantage of the fact that Ray wasn’t there and drank way past the point I was even capable of holding in. I knew what I was doing and I knew that I could get away with it because I hadn’t seen you before. I’m the only one to blame in this situation and, for the record, I’m glad it happened.”

Mikey’s eyes widen and he turns his stool quickly, their knees bumping together in Mikey’s haste to look at Frank, “How can you be glad it happened? You threw up, Frank. You woke up with a hangover and no recollection of what happened the night before. What is there to be glad about?”

Frank just smiles, “I’m here today clean and sober, aren’t I?”

Mikey sits up straighter in his stool and the conversation suddenly turns a lot more serious as Frank continues, “Plus, I, well, I met Gerard. He made me want to be better, you know? He seemed to understand me and reach out to me in a way no one else had. He tried to know me and what was going on in my head rather than judge me. He made me feel something for the first time in a long time. It’s kind of embarrassing to say this, but I found inspiration to get sober through him. He left me a note tucked away in my wallet that said ‘Hopefully we can meet again when you’re sober’ with his phone number and I read it a lot. I read it whenever I felt tempted to drink or go to a club. I read it whenever I felt stressed or like I was alone in getting better. It was rough, but I owe pulling through to him. I couldn’t have done it if it weren’t for him.”

Mikey nods listening intently to Frank the whole time when a troubled look finally crosses his face, “If he did so much, then why didn’t you call him?”

Frank sighs and looks back down at his hands, “I never knew what to say.”

“What about what you just told me?”

“When I think about telling him or calling him, I just freeze up. It’s like my mind goes blank, my mouth runs dry, and my palms start sweating. I can’t say what I want to say, so I just don’t. I tried calling him, but I always stop just before I actually hit the call button.” Frank misses the way Mikey’s smiling at him as he talks because he’s looking down at the ground and his feet dangling a couple inches from the ground because of how short he is compared to the stool.

By the time Frank looks up again, Mikey’s face is back to looking out towards the dance floor and he seems to be lost in thought, but he focuses on Frank from the corners of his eyes, “Gerard hasn’t stopped talking about you, just so you know. Even after all this time, he still gets excited when his phone rings. We thought he was crazy when he told us that you were getting sober. Bob was worried you went somewhere else and Ray and I thought you were drinking at your house, but Gerard never stopped believing in you. He told us that you were doing well and that he could just feel it even if you hadn’t told him. He told us that you’d call and that you were different from most people he’d seen at clubs, he just needed to wait a little longer. We were all worried for him and by the end of the first month, and we could tell he was getting worried, too, but he didn’t stop telling us that you were going to be fine. We started pressuring him to get out again, but he told me that it wasn’t the same now that he had someone to wait for.” 

Mikey smiles reassuringly at Frank and seems almost sorry he didn’t believe Gerard, “I told him just last week that if you didn’t call by the end of this month, then he’d have to move on. He just looked at me sadly and sat at the bar, looking at his phone as if he could make it ring.” Mikey pauses and then shakes his head slowly, rolling his eyes at himself, “You know, I was really angry at you at first.”

Frank looks at Mikey with wide eyes and Mikey just laughs, patting Frank on the leg softly as if he were saying he didn’t feel that way anymore, “I thought you were going to be one of those guys who would only bring my brother down and take advantage of how nice he is. I thought you’d overstay your welcome or persuade Gerard to start drinking again. I held that grudge for quite a while before I realized it was just guilt. Now, I’m just glad I met you. You’re nothing like I thought you were. I definitely see what my brother meant when he said you were different from everyone else.”

Frank’s about to thank Mikey and maybe even hug him for this talk when Bob sticks his head out from the dark hallway and calls across the room, “Club’s opening in ten and we’ve already got people lined up.” He looks at Frank, “I don’t know how you’ll do in here, Frank, once this place starts filling up, so I’m going to trust your judgment on whether you’re ready to stay here or not.”

Frank hurriedly looks at Mikey as Mikey gets up from the stool and walks around the bar, entering it from a small door to the left rather than jumping over again, “Is it already too late to call Gerard tonight?” and then he yells to Bob, “I’ll be right out.”

Frank turns to Mikey and Mikey winks at him, “It’s not too late. Call him the minute you get out of here, if you can. Or, if you live close, call him when you get back to your house so you two can hear each other.” Frank thanks Mikey and Mikey only nods before disappearing behind the swinging door Ray still hadn’t returned from. 

Frank quickly makes his way across the room, making sure to remember to grab his forgotten water bottle. Bob holds the door open for him as he exits and Bob pulls him into a quick, brotherly hug, “I’m glad you came back, Frank. It’s nice to see you doing better.”

Frank blushes and doesn’t know how to thank Bob. Thankfully, Bob gets distracted by some girl talking trash to another, so Frank ducks out before he gets all sentimental on Bob and cries or something. 

He’s halfway to his house, his spirits higher than ever as he takes out his keys. When he reaches the door, he hurriedly takes the cushions off the couch, throwing them on the floor and taking his phone into his hands, willing it to hurry up and turn on. Once it’s fully loaded and Frank’s sure it’s not going to die soon, he dials the number he knows by heart. Instead of staring at it and then erasing it, he holds his breath and pushes the call button, bringing the phone up to his ear. He counts the rings and doesn’t have to wait long until it stops and the man who saved him sounds through the speaker, “Hello?”

Frank smiles to himself, pulling the note out of his wallet again as he respond, “Hey, uh, Gerard, it’s me, Frank.”


End file.
